by Corey Rosen:
On Rosh Hashana it is written, and on Yom Kippur it is sealed.
My grandmother Evelyn Eisman Rosen (Yocheved bat Miriam v'Chanoch) died today, Yom Kippur morning, at the age of 91, her fate having been sealed ten days prior.
Those of you who know my family know that she wasn't the same grandma for the last ten or so years, since her stroke.
My grandparents were married for 70 years and my grandfather took care of her almost single-handedly right until the end, refusing the help that we always offered because she was his wife and it was his job. These last few years grandpa really lived the line "in sickness and in health".
Even the last few years when she couldn't remember our names, you could see in her face when you walked in the room that it registered that we were someone important to her and that she was happy to see us.
A stroke and dementia could never dampen grandma's "devilish sense of humor" (quote from Kelli), once having fed her oblivious coworkers chocolate covered crickets, another time teaching a Spanish class despite not speaking the language, even until the end when she called me awkward at seder a few years ago, causing the whole room to crack up. Now you all know where my dad gets it from.
I realized the other day that I have my grandma to thank for my fascination with genealogy and our family's history. When I was little I would come over and pull out the family albums that she put together and make her go over all the relationships she typed out (on her typewriter!) and tell me stories about her Bubba and Zayda and her many loving cousins.
My head is spinning with emotion from the power of this Holy Day, which ended on a bittersweet note. Bitter that my grandma is no longer with us, but sweet in that she is no longer suffering.
Everyone who knew "Evy" loved her, you couldn't not.
Pour yourself a whiskey sour in my grandma's honor (her drink of choice).
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